


Off Balance (On Steady Ground)

by MG12CSI16



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drinking, M/M, Merlin Is a Stripper, Merthur - Freeform, Modern AU, One Shot, Random Sex, Semi PWP, Slash, but not really, m/m - Freeform, past arwen, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MG12CSI16/pseuds/MG12CSI16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur can't seem to move on, Merlin has an interesting career of choice, and Gwaine is more devious than anyone thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off Balance (On Steady Ground)

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I’m doing.  
> This was supposed to be random PWP (I’ve never written actual porn before so it’s probably horrible) and turned into a sort story with a bit of a plot and a bit of porn, whoops. This is also my first Merlin story so it might be a bit not good, but if that’s the case feel free to let me know or correct things you see wrong. Oh yeah, it’s modern AU and Merthur but starts as Arthur/Gwen (kind of).  
> I also abused the use of parentheses in this chapter, so apologies if it’s a bit annoying.

Gwen tells him he needs to grow up.

He’s lazy and rude and she’s tired of being his mother instead of his girlfriend, (she isn’t putting herself through years of school just to come home to an overgrown child who refuses to take care of himself when he’s not at work) and it’s time one of them makes a change.

He tells her she’s bluffing, but straightens up a little more from his slouched position on the couch and holds his breath anyway. She’s pacing, heels clacking against the hardwood in a repetitive pattern that’s really starting to piss him off. She looks close to tears and he knows that’s never a good sign.

“I need a break,” she finally breathes, refusing to look him in the eye. She’s softly weeping but he finds that he doesn’t even care.

He can’t comprehend anything she’s doing. He’s only focused on the word break and trying not to let the red hot anger in his chest show itself. He always said he’d never lose his temper with her so instead he stands up, slightly taller figure coming to stand in front of her and he pulls her into his arms where she starts to sob into his chest.

“Come on,” he croons in a voice that sounds nothing like his own, “it’s alright. You’re just tired and you need some sleep. We’ll be over this in the morning.”

He is expecting her to laugh at her own foolishness, wipe her eyes and kiss him because that’s what Gwen does and she never stays mad at him no matter how hard she tries, but this time that doesn’t happen and he swears he feels his heart break as she pulls back.

“Arthur, not this time. I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired and I can’t keep up with you while trying to live my life. Something has got to give and I can’t get rid of this horrible feeling that it isn’t going to be you.”

She’s not in his arms anymore but on the other side of the living room as if he’d blinked and missed it, nervously grating her bottom lip between her teeth. If Arthur didn’t know any better he’d think that she was scared of him or maybe his reaction because she shies away when he steps forward and he almost stops.

“Guinevere, please. We can…I could—“ He can’t find the words and suddenly his chest is too tight. He can’t breathe and now _she_ looks pissed because he just doesn’t get it.

“Don’t Arthur. I’m not going to ask you to change if you don’t want to. All I’m asking is that you let me go because it’s what I want and if you care at all than you’ll listen to what I’m telling you.”

There’s a slight crack in her voice, misted pools clouding her dark eyes but she doesn’t let that exterior crack while she’s in front of him.

“Go find someone that isn’t like me. Don’t let them tell you how to live because it’s what’s right for them and don’t let them think that you aren’t one of the most amazing people in this world. Just because I’m not strong enough to handle it all doesn’t mean you don’t deserve someone amazing.”

Then she reaches up, even in her heels she was shorter than him, and she kisses his cheeks with soft lips he wants to taste more than anything as they come closer and closer.

Arthur doesn’t say anything because even if he did manage to think of the words he knows they would do him little good. She’s made up her mind and one thing he’s learned after years with Gwen is that once she decides on something it’s a done deal and nothing he says is going to change that.

And that’s when he walks out the front door without looking back.

* * *

She leaves him a message on his phone a few days later and tells him he can come get his things while she’s at school. He listens to it once and then deletes it.

He hates the sound of her voice.

* * *

There are boxes lining the back wall of his flat because he’s too chicken shit to unpack them and sift through the last two years of his life with the girl he thought he would marry.

Being in his old flat is almost like being tortured. While it’s spacious and well-decorated the living room is awkwardly shaped and it’s situated right next to a constantly crowded twenty four-hour Chinese place. He can hear the clang of every ladle and the shrill beep of every timer and it makes him want to pull his hair out and scream.

It’s pure chance that he actually decided to keep the place after buying a flat with Gwen almost a year into the relationship but now he supposes it’s a good thing because he doesn’t have to bum on Leon’s couch and listen to Morgana bitch every day.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from punching a neat hole in the wall when the noise won’t stop and he finds himself calling out to Gwen to see what she wants for dinner, only to be answered by silence and memories.

He’s slowly falling apart and he won’t even admit it.

* * *

He tells Leon he can’t come to his stag do nearly three weeks later because the last thing he wants is to be around a bunch of drunk men whining about the lack of strippers (if Morgana found out there were strippers she would murder every one of them) as they retold stories of all the stupid shit they did as kids, but in the end they both know that the words are a load of shit.

He meets them a few hours later.

At nearly eleven thirty he finds himself crushed between Gwaine and Percy in an impressive suite on the thirtieth floor of some hotel he’s heard of once before but can’t seem to remember the name of. They’re both buzzing with excitement and throwing back shots while Arthur just rolls his eyes at their behavior and takes a mouthful of whiskey. He embraces the burn without so much as a grimace and turns his attention elsewhere.

Leon is staring at him, worried despite the fact that he’s shown up and if the man wasn’t about to marry his sister, Arthur is almost sure he would snap. Instead he smiles but he can tell it’s unconvincing, the way Leon quirks his brow but seems to get the hint before he looks away.

Arthur breathes a slow sigh of relief and relaxes against the couch.

The hours tick by incredibly slow for Arthur. He finishes off his glass of whiskey and decides he’d rather not have a hangover from hell tomorrow when he’s supposed to give his best man speech. Unfortunately, he can’t say the same for the others.

They’re all shitfaced, laughing and telling stories he is almost sure are ninety percent made up, and right now Arthur hates them. Or maybe he hates himself; by now he’s not entirely sure.

He hasn’t spoken to Gwen in nearly a month. She makes it clear when he tries to stop by the flat and ‘talk sense into her’ that she wants nothing to do with him. She wants to move on and for him to do the same but no matter how hard he tries he always ends up thinking of her or the way she smells or the way she feels beneath his fingertips.

The first two weeks were spent in a constant state of drunkenness, numb and unable to remember. Then he came stumbling through his sister’s front door with the key she had given him at some godforsaken hour of the night, making more noise than what was humanly possible, and Morgana had stomped out of the bedroom she shares with Leon (Arthur still gags when he thinks about his best friend and his sister sleeping together every night) and demanded he pull himself together.

There had been anger in her voice but Arthur knew she was just worried. After seeing what alcohol had done to their father when their mother had died she had made Arthur promise he would never turn into that, but as he sat on the edge of the couch with the taste of liquor on his tongue and teary eyed Morgana gripping his hand for dear life he realized that was exactly what had happened.

And he’d never gone back.

A drink here and there during business meetings, wine with dinner. It never exceeded those limits, even for a stag do which means Arthur spends the first few hours being teased until Leon barks at them to leave him alone before he kicks them out. It’s awkwardly silent for a moment until Gwaine pulls out a bottle of tequila from seemingly nowhere and suddenly it’s like being in a room full of girls.

Arthur shakes his head and pretends he isn’t memorizing every detail of the night so he can recall them later, should he need any blackmail.

At a quarter past twelve Leon finally moves from his spot on the other couch, standing (swaying) with his glass in his hand as he sloshes alcohol all over the carpet. He plops down beside Arthur with a groan, raises his glass for an invisible toast and tosses it all back in one gulp. Arthur shakes his head and grins.

“So,” Leon slurs, “having fun?”

Arthur looks at him skeptically but with his clouded mind Leon doesn’t seem to notice. Instead Arthur settles for nodding his head as unenthusiastically as possible (not that Leon notices that either). He’s ready to open his mouth and see how many sarcastic comments he can get away with when someone knocks on the door and Arthur is almost sure they’ve had the police called on them.

He jumps up to open the door, being the only sober and level headed one, but Gwaine pushes past him and he nearly falls to the floor, a slew of curses bubbling on the tip of his tongue.

Arthur stands up, dusting himself off and shaking out his hair, but when he looks up he sees Gwaine and some unfamiliar man (Arthur isn’t even sure he can say _man_ , the kid looks no older than eighteen) who’s looking right at him.

The other have gone silent (save for Percy’s girlish giggling) and Arthur has a feeling of dread in his stomach as Gwaine whispers in the kids ear and points not so slyly at Leon with a manic grin on his face. And then, when the boy’s lips turn up in a smile that is deceivingly devilish and he creeps slowly toward the couch where Leon sits, he knows this won’t end well.

From there it’s mostly a blur. Someone turns the stereo on and blares the music and the kid, to both Arthur’s dismay and pure joy, rips his clothes off and shimmies his hips to the music. Leon, who looks horrified and surprisingly sober, is pinned against the couch by the raven-haired boy who is at least half his size as he grinds and dances as sweat clings to his bangs and collects in pools at his collar bone.

The others are cheering and laughing and drinking and Arthur can hear his brain telling him to _get out now_ but something deeper inside of him, twisting his gut into a knot, makes him stay, eyes locked on the boy as he steps back from Leon and keeps dancing.

He was shockingly beautiful, Arthur decides. Raven hair and stormy blue eyes that seemed much older than him, ivory skin that seemed desperate for Arthur to reach out and touch it and cheekbones to die for. While he wasn’t exactly built, his body was lean and toned, more than likely from the…work he did.

Arthur isn’t even aware of how hard he’s staring until a rough hand slaps him on the back and Gwaine nearly sends them both sprawling to the ground.

“He’s good, isn’t he?”

Gwaine shouts over the music and points at the kid, still doing his thing as his hips move in smooth circles and Arthur feels his own pants become just a little tighter (Gwaine’s known about his sexuality for a while now and isn’t afraid to talk openly with Arthur about it). He ignores the heat in the pit of his stomach and shouts back without taking his eyes away.

“I guess he is. A friend of yours?”

Gwaine nods, takes a swig from a bottle of something Arthur can’t identify, and hiccups. “Yeah, known him for about a year now; he does this kind of thing all the time but agreed to do it at half price as a joke for good ol’ Leon. Morgana didn’t say nothing about male strippers now did she?”

He lets out a cackle and smacks Arthur on the back again before he moves towards the others and cheers, takes another swig from the bottle and passes it to Mordred who looks ready to fall over. Arthur shakes his head and decides he’s had enough (it’s not because he starts thinking of Gwen) before he makes his way to the bedroom he’d claimed earlier that night and shuts the door behind him.

He can still hear the music.

* * *

It’s nearly four in the morning when the noise finally stops.

Arthur looks up from his laptop and frowns, uncrossing his legs and moving from the bed to the door, pressing an ear firmly against it in curiosity. The only sound he hears is a light shuffling and the sound of a plastic cup falling to the floor followed by a curse. He rolls his eyes and opens the door, wanting to make sure none of the idiots accidently kill themselves before the wedding.

He nearly shudders at the thought of Morgana’s reaction to that one.

From what Arthur can see the place is trashed, empty bottles and cups everywhere along with some cigarette butts that more than likely belonged to Gwaine. Arthur shakes his head and moves to pick up some of them when his hand brushes with another, startlingly pale in comparison.

His eyes flick up, locking with blue eyes that widen in surprise. Arthur whips his hand back and stands up. It’s the dancer/stripper/friend that Gwaine had invited; only now he was fully clothed and seemingly embarrassed. He sets down the rubbish bag in his hand and runs a hand through his hair, refusing to meet Arthur’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I thought you’d gone to sleep.”

Arthur smiles a bit, amused at the words, they don’t sound like ones that would come from a friend of Gwaine’s but the kid seems sincere and for some reason this strikes him as odd. Nonchalantly, Arthur leans against the couch, crosses his arms and quirks his brow.

“Nope, still awake. But even if I wasn’t I’d still wonder why you’re still here picking up after this lot.” He gestures to the pile of his drunk and unconscious friends.

He watches the tips of the boys ears redden as he picks at the sleeve of his jumper and shrugs.

“I helped make most of it; I figured I should at least get rid of some of it before I go.” He shrugs again and looks at the room, a war-torn battlefield by now.

Arthur hums in understanding as an awkward silence falls over the two of them. He couldn’t suppress the feeling of want that ran through him when he looked at this complete stranger. There was something about him, whether it’s his innocence (Arthur doesn’t know how someone who does this kind of work manages that, but this kid had it nearly perfected) or his outright beauty that made his head spin.

Either way it was slowly driving Arthur crazy.

When he realizes the other doesn’t seem willing to make conversation Arthur silently continues to pick up the place before morning, his lips twitching in amusement when the boy began doing the same. With his help Arthur is relieved to find it doesn’t take the rest of the morning and once he tosses the last empty beer can away he turns to offer his thanks.

“It would have taken hours without your help.”

The boy blushes again, smiling gently, and suddenly Arthur adds,

“I’m Arthur, by the way.”

He holds out his hand and feels cool fingers snake around it, gently shaking.

“Merlin,” is all the boy says, but Arthur doesn’t mind.

He’s just glad he has a name to work with now.   

When Merlin lets go of his hand Arthur’s surprised by how much he misses the touch, brushes it off anyways and moves towards the fridge on the other side of the room. He pulls out two bottles of water and tosses one to Merlin.

The blue eyed boy tries, and ultimately fails, to catch it and instead it lands with a loud thud on the floor beside his feet. Merlin’s eyes widen and he looks over to Arthur’s sleeping friends, blows out a breath of relief when he sees they haven’t woken.

Arthur simply chuckles. “Nothing can wake them up after they’ve partied like this. I might actually have to release Morgana on them in the morning if I can’t get them ready in time.”

Merlin smiles at that but Arthur doesn’t miss the confusion in his eyes.

“Morgana’s my sister, and Leon’s fiancée.”

 Merlin’s eyes widen again.

“Is that weird? For you I mean, that your friend is marrying your sister?”

Arthur shrugs at that. He’d never really thought about it. In the beginning he supposed it bugged him a bit, but that was mostly his protective side and when he finally rationed with himself and realized that Leon was one of the best people he’d ever met, he was fine. As long as Morgana was happy, so was Arthur.

“It’s not so bad I guess. The only downside is when they attempt to, you know, when they forget I’m coming around for lunch.”

He shudders at that memory and locks it away again, ignoring Merlin’s chuckle. It was a traumatizing experience for him and he knew it was for Leon too based on the numerous, silence filled encounters that immediately followed.

“So,” Arthur says, desperate to change the subject, “how do you know Gwaine?”

Merlin looks at him and swallows a sip of water, setting his bottle down and leaning against the counter.

“From work. Before this I was a waiter and Gwaine was a manager. We kept in touch after I left to do…other things.”

“You mean strip,” Arthur deadpans.

Merlin looks at him coolly.

“Dance,” he says, “it’s dancing. I just so happen to be doing it without a whole lot of clothes.”

Snorting, Arthur decides to leave it at that. Whatever made Merlin feel better was fine with him. Besides, it’s not like he’d ever see him again. What did it matter that Merlin was obviously in denial about his career?

_Absolutely nothing,_ he tells himself.

They lapse into silence again, Arthur pretending to read the label on one of the bottles of alcohol that surprisingly survived the night and Merlin staring out of the full length window on the other side of the suite. The lights of the city cast an orange glow over him and Arthur once again finds himself staring at him for the second time that night.

The intense need to reach out for him washes over Arthur like a tidal wave, white hot and impossible to ignore. Then Merlin turns to him, mouth set in a line and asks him something that breaks down the wall he’s built in his mind.

“So, do you have a girlfriend or anything?”

 Arthur knows the kid is just curious, he would be too if he wasn’t so stuck on the fact that he was attracted to this person and he had no idea why, but the mention of Gwen (direct or not) still sends him into a frenzy of memories and trying not to forget how to breathe.

“Uh, no not anymore.”

Apparently, said frenzy is visible in his eyes because Merlin looks at him empathetically and smiles softly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, almost too quiet for Arthur to hear. He’s still standing next to the window and Arthur wishes he would come closer.

He shrugs off Merlin’s apology. He didn’t need it anyways. He decides to change the subject again and pads across the carpet towards Merlin, sucks in a breath at the view below.

“What about you?” he asks finally, “have yourself a girlfriend?”

Merlin snorts and runs a hand through the hair that’s fallen into his eyes. Arthur just frowns.

“No, no girlfriend. Not really my cup of tea if you know what I mean.”

Merlin looks pointedly at Arthur in case he needed to explain a bit further but Arthur just nods.

He knows _exactly_ what he means.

From the corner of his eye he notes how close they are, he can feel the heat radiating from Merlin’s body and melding around his own. Comfortable, like he’s known him his whole life and not just for a few hours.

Arthur turns his body now, so he’s facing Merlin head on, unable to ignore the knots in his stomach or the way his heart continues to leap into his throat and make it hard to breathe. He reaches out, ever so gently, the pad of his thumb tracing impossibly pink lips. Merlin’s eyes flash, locking with Arthur’s as they scream thousands of questions without the need for Merlin to utter a single word.

“There’s something about you,” Arthur murmurs, “I don’t know why but I want you. Badly.”

Merlin smirks at that, leaning into Arthur’s touch, as if he craves it more and more with each passing second.

“You don’t even know me,” he finally answers, desperate to be the one that was speaking sense.

Not that he disagrees with Arthur though; there was something about him too; something that was pulling Merlin closer and closer without actually moving. It felt natural, easy even.

He knew he was going to lose this battle before it even begun.

Arthur kisses him after that, softly at first. His lips are smooth and warm and taste like the faintest hint of whiskey and Merlin welcomes them with hungry nips and fingers that tangle in his pristine blond hair. Arthur captures Merlin’s bottom lip between his teeth; hands on the other man’s shoulders pulling them flush against each other.

He hears Merlin gasp at the contact and nearly loses it.

From there it’s a bit of a blur to Arthur. He remembers Merlin kissing him back, hands furiously grasping at any part of Arthur they could as he moaned and gasped and Arthur followed suit. He’s glad the others are stone cold drunk because the force he uses to shove Merlin against his bedroom door sends an echoing thud throughout the suite, and once they manage to get inside he slams it shut.

Arthur continues shoving Merlin back until his legs hit the bed and with a final push he’s on his back, Arthur straddling his lap and placing kisses on every inch of exposed skin he can find. Merlin writhes beneath him and reaches up, grips Arthur’s shoulders and before the blond can even comprehend it Merlin has him flat on the bed, towering over him with a cheeky grin.

“Are you sure?” is all he asks.

Normally Arthur would say no, he wasn’t sure. Not with Gwen still fresh on his mind even after a few months. Normally he wouldn’t even think of shagging the random dancer that shows up at his friends stag do because he couldn’t help himself.

Now though, things have changed considerably.

He gives a furious nod, his eyes pleading, and Merlin rips his shirt off with minimal effort, Arthur does the same to his and nearly rips it in half with the force. Arthur rakes his eyes over Merlin’s body again and again as slender fingers work at his belt and trousers, yanking them down past his hips with a single movement.

It nearly kills him when he has to wait for Merlin to do the same with his own.

Then he feels Merlin’s mouth on him, lips trailing kisses along his neck and jaw, nipping and sucking the skin. He wriggles desperately when Merlin’s tongue flicks across one of his hardened nipples, his hips bucking when fingers work themselves between the waist band of his boxers and pull them down too, releasing his erection. Merlin removes his own boxers and is on Arthur again in an instant.

He takes Arthur’s already leaking cock in his hand, pumping as the blond arched and moaned into the touch. Calling out, begging for more.

“Oh God, Merlin,” he whimpers, grabbing at the bed sheets and twisting them in his hands.

Merlin grins and let’s go, grinds his hips against Arthur’s so their erections rub against each other in a way that nearly made Arthur come right then and there. While he was used to being in charge he finds he doesn’t mind letting Merlin do as he pleases, it was different but it was good. Better than it ever was before.

He leans up and kisses Merlin again; their chests flush against each other. He feels Merlin’s lips leave his own, sneaking their way downward, from his chin to his chest to stomach and finally to his throbbing member.

At first Merlin teases him, his tongue darting out, circling Arthur’s tip and eliciting some sort of growl mixed with a moan from Arthur’s furiously red and swollen lips. Then, without warning, he takes him whole and Arthur is almost sure this is it. His hips are thrashing as Merlin moves up and down, his teeth grazing sensitive flesh and Arthur reaches out when he can’t stand it anymore, grabbing ebony hair and pulling Merlin back up with all the desperation he can muster.

Merlin hovers above him, panting and licking his lips, waiting for the command that can’t come fast enough. Finally, when Arthur catches his breath he hears,

“Fuck me Merlin. Please.”

And that’s all he needs to hear.

After that, it’s history really. Arthur comes first, screaming Merlin’s name, his toes curling as his orgasm washes over him with blinding ecstasy. Merlin isn’t far behind and when he comes Arthur is sure to commit the sound to memory.

They collapse in a sweating heap when it’s over, tangled limbs and heavy breathing. Arthur rolls over until he’s slightly on top of Merlin, grinning at him.

“You should be my plus one to the wedding.” He says and Merlin’s eyes nearly pop out of his head.

“And what would I say when I meet your sister? ‘Hi, I was the stripper at your husband’s stag do last night where I also happened to fuck your brother even though we just met?’”

Arthur laughs (more like cackles) at that and looks at Merlin pleadingly.

“Would you please? I’d love to see Morgana’s face when she hears that one.” 

 Merlin joins in on the laughter but after a moment Arthur’s face turns serious and he stops drawing patterns on Merlin’s strikingly pale skin.

“I mean it though. You should come with me. I’ve already taken you to bed with me, the least I can do is take you out on a date.”

At the word ‘date’ he watches Merlin’s eyebrows shoot up but a small smile eases his erratically beating heart.

“I guess that doesn’t sound too bad,” he says, then, “Alright, I guess I’ll come.”

Arthur can barely contain his excitement.

* * *

They don’t leave the room until they hear the others stir a few hours later, both of them unsure how the others will react to last night’s entertainment casually walking out of Arthur’s bedroom.

Much to Arthur’s surprise, they don’t say much at all.

 Percy and Leon watch Merlin walk to the door, Mordred has his head down on the counter and Gwaine is standing by the counter making coffee with a smile that was much too smug for Arthur’s comfort. Still, none of them say a word as Merlin stops, looks back at Arthur and says,

“So I’ll see you in a few hours yeah?”

All Arthur can do is nod.

When Merlin is finally gone the others look at him with wide eyes and smiles. Arthur feels his face flush and he marches right up to Gwaine until they're nose to nose. Arthur nearly has to stand on his tip toes just to look into the man’s eyes.

“You didn’t invite Merlin here as a joke for Leon, did you?”

Gwaine doesn’t even blink.

“Not at all mate. The boys and I were just tired of seeing you mope around all the time.”

Arthur looks over and sees the others nod; Leon looking down in what almost appeared to be shame although there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“Besides, I knew you couldn’t resist Merlin.”

Arthur rolls his eyes.

“And how could you have possibly known that?”

Gwaine smirks and turns back to the coffee maker.

“Because no one ever can.”


End file.
